


transfixed

by paradoxikay



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: M/M, Mild Gore, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-01-30 13:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21428887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxikay/pseuds/paradoxikay
Summary: Joshua trusts him with this, and that’s enough.
Relationships: Hanekoma Sanae/Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13
Collections: The World Exchanges With You 2019





	transfixed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [surskitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/surskitty/gifts).

Joshua’s cute when he’s all tuckered out.

He’d hate that word - _cute_ \- and Sanae’s not about to say it to his face, but it’s true. All curled in on himself, head resting against Sanae’s thigh… yeah, he’s cute. Back-to-back reincarnations always wear him out, and Sanae’s not unsympathetic, but he sure doesn’t mind the incidental cuddling as Joshua takes some time out to recharge. 

Fingers threading idly through Joshua’s hair, he lets his mind wander, his own kind of post-Game decompression. He’s got to report on those reincarnations soon - a far less arduous task than performing them, to be fair. He’s got some interesting former Players to check up on. And then…

There’s a lot he needs to do. There always is. But it’s not so easy to concentrate on a to-do list with Joshua a warm presence at his side, now nuzzling so sweetly into the brush of Sanae’s hand against his cheek. 

Almost like he’s doing it on purpose, and at the thought Joshua rolls over just enough to blink up at him, all feigned innocence._ Am I distracting you?_ Joshua yawns and stretches, making a show of just how tired he is before settling back down._ Should I stop?_

“Nah. I think I’ll manage.” 

He brushes Joshua’s hair back from his forehead, tucks it behind his ear, traces the line of Joshua’s jaw and brushes a thumb across lips that part in a sigh. It’s a rare treat to have Joshua like this, cuddly and pliant, and he’s not about to turn it down. 

Only problem is, the feelings the opportunity is giving him aren’t cuddly at all. 

When he offers up an image for Joshua’s consideration, one of Joshua flushed and disheveled, Joshua’s laughter echoes pleasantly through his thoughts: _Really, Mr. H? You’re insatiable. _But he’s got Joshua thinking along the same lines now, and it’s no surprise to him at all when Joshua pushes himself up to sitting. 

“I suppose,” he says aloud, “you may -” He cuts himself off with a gasp, as Sanae grabs a handful of hair close to the scalp and _pulls_. 

Joshua scrambles to his knees, letting Sanae lead him by the hair into a kiss that ends with teeth sunk into Joshua’s lower lip; for a moment he freezes between the two bright points of pain, and then Sanae lets him go, all at once, and he has to steady himself with a hand on Sanae’s shoulder to keep his balance. 

“I may what?” Joshua’s nails dig into his shoulder, a warning or a protest that goes unheeded. “What’ll you let me do to you, Josh?” 

“Hurt me.” It’s an answer and a command both.

Sanae’s got a running theory, and it’s that when he’s downtuned far enough to feel anything on an individual level, Joshua loves _sensation_. Pain and pleasure both, but pain can be sharp, immediate, in a way pleasure fails to be, and Sanae can see the appeal. 

He’s no sadist, mind. Harming people who haven’t done a thing to deserve it runs contrary to his nature, and as disagreeable as Joshua can be at his worst, he’s never hurt Sanae. Oh, he’s tried, but it takes more than witty barbs and the occasional foray into physical violence to get under Sanae’s skin. 

What does do it for Sanae is trust. The trust it takes, for example, to ask to be hurt, knowing you’ll be put right at the end of it. Joshua trusts him with this, and that’s enough.

He starts to unbutton Joshua’s shirt, but it vanishes before he gets the first button all the way through. His pants go the same way before Sanae’s hands get anywhere near his fly. Sanae takes his time anyway, running his hands down Joshua’s chest, settling them lightly on his hips… touch is powerful, and, he thinks, highly underrated. Just touch has made Joshua go very still, waiting for what’s to come - what he wants, and what Sanae will give him.

But he still shivers at the first prick of Noise claws against his bare skin.

Joshua, Sanae knows, would prefer knives - cold steel he could wrest away from Sanae and turn against him, if he had to. But Sanae likes the intimacy of this, of taking Joshua apart, metaphorically and otherwise, with his bare hands. 

He’s gentle at first, doesn’t jump immediately to breaking skin. Joshua still holds his breath as Sanae traces abstract patterns along his chest, his shoulders, his thighs, using just enough pressure to raise thin white lines that quickly flush pink. Joshua’s face is flushed, too, and Sanae fondly cups his cheek, careful not to put an eye out with his claws.

“Mr. _H_…” Joshua whines, angling his head away from the touch. Sanae lets him go. He’s tried Joshua’s patience long enough.

“Shh, now. I’ve gotcha.” 

When he finally sinks one set of claws into Joshua’s chest, Joshua makes a noise like Sanae’s grabbed his cock instead, a pretty little moan. His hands come to grip Sanae’s wrist, not to push him away but to urge him closer, _deeper_. “Easy, easy,” Sanae murmurs, staying right where he is. There’s only so far Sanae’s willing to take this, and he knows his limits fall far short of Joshua’s but he’s not about to break them. “I’m not gonna leave you wantin’.” 

Joshua’s expression suggests disbelief - in Sanae, maybe, or in being given anything he doesn't have to fight tooth and nail for. But he does let go.

And Sanae, as promised, rewards him. Rakes his claws down Joshua’s chest, leaving in their wake lacerations that gape down to the muscle, and through the blood Sanae can see the movement as Joshua tenses up, then relaxes into the pain with a deep sigh. It must be so much to bear, being stuck in one place, in one body, as Sanae tears him apart. But he takes it so beautifully. 

When Sanae retracts his claws and takes Joshua’s cock in hand, Joshua whines something incoherent, dropping his head to Sanae’s shoulder and clutching at his shirt as though for dear life. Sanae finds himself mumbling nonsense at him - _that’s it, there you go_, the kind of thing that’s more for his sake than Joshua’s, that he can only get away with when Joshua’s too far gone to complain about being fussed over. Lost in the combination of pleasure and agony Sanae’s created for him, Joshua’s in no shape to protest. 

Soon he’s shuddering through an orgasm, voice muffled against Sanae’s shoulder as he cries out. Something akin to pride wells in Sanae’s chest, not in himself, but in Joshua. Pain is a complicated thing for the Composer, tied into the heart and soul of an entire city with all its highs and lows, but it’s different this close to the Realground, and what Joshua’s endured - _chosen_ to endure - is nothing to scoff at.

“You’ve done good, Josh. Real good.”

“You needn’t praise me for _orgasming_.” A pause, and then Joshua lifts his head, suddenly serious. “But thank you.” He winces, and puts a hand to the wounds that are still sluggishly bleeding; studies the blood on his fingers like it’s something foreign, and with visible distaste wipes it on the blanket. 

Sanae reaches for him almost without thinking, healing light spilling from his fingertips before they even make contact with Joshua’s chest. Joshua is perfectly capable of healing himself, of course, but Sanae feels obligated. Putting right what he’s wronged should be his job, and Joshua graciously allows it. 

When he bows his head to press a kiss to the newly-healed skin, though - that crosses a line, and Joshua plants a hand against his forehead, shoving him away. “I’m tired,” he announces, as though it takes a great deal of his energy to suffer through being fussed over.

Used to dealing with his ever-fickle Composer, Sanae just laughs. “I’ll let you get back to your nap, then.” He swings his legs over the side of the bed, only to have Joshua grab his wrist before he can stand.

“I didn’t say I wanted you to leave.” 


End file.
